


Palindrome

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Real damn sad, reader discretion advised, saddest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dog and God are not the same word. But sometimes, they have the same meaning. And the same heart break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palindrome

**Author's Note:**

> Sad, this is sad. This is the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever written. I dehydrated myself writing it, just crying too much. Don’t read it in public, don’t read it with friends or family, don’t read it in the morning as it’ll ruin your day. Damian’s 19, going on 20, obviously. ‘Stille Nacht’ by Mannheim Steamroller is good supplemental tuneage. I’m so sorry in advance. I’m shunning myself for this and never coming back.

Jason exhaled the smoke, watching it drift into the skies, even as he dropped the cigarette and ground it into the concrete.

He frowned – it was sunny. A beautiful day, and that was _wrong_.

He sighed, and closed his eyes, steeling himself to go back inside. It felt like a morgue in there. A mausoleum. A hospital room.

It felt like God was inside this house, and he was dying.

And Jason couldn’t help but smirk at that, huff a little laugh as he pushed the door open, stepped back into the foyer.

Because it wasn’t God who was dying. Not really.

Just the next best thing.

Most of the family was huddled in the family room, awaiting the inevitable. Their heads bowed, their voices hushed. Tissues were at the ready, and used ones were balled up on the table, or scrunched in tight fists. Bruce looked anxious, like he wanted to run ten laps around Gotham. Dick just looked sad, worried. They all did, to some degree. Sad, worried, and resigned.

Because there was nothing they could do. Not for him. Not for Damian.

They just…had to let it happen. Had to wait for it to be over.

He knew Bruce wanted to go upstairs. Dick too. Hell, they probably _all_ did. But Damian asked to be alone, and now was not one of the times they wanted to violate his trust.

Jason didn’t want to either – but he didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

He caught Tim’s eye as he headed for the stairs, and the younger gave him a slight nod. _Be gentle with him_ , his eyes said. _Let us know when it happens, if you’re there._

Jason didn’t return the nod, but he knew Tim wasn’t expecting him to. And as he took the stairs two at a time, he wondered if any of them had even _tried_ to go upstairs. If they had already said their goodbyes, or were waiting until after to do so.

He paused at the top of the landing. Sucked in a breath.

Fuck.

_It’s always the good ones_ , he thought, as he walked slowly, carefully down the hallway, as if one misstep would set off a landmine. _God always takes those good ones, like he deserves them more than we do. And it just ain’t fair_.

He paused one more time outside Damian’s room. Inhaled once more, tried to prepare himself, and then let it out. Extended the exhale until there was no air left, and turned into the doorway.

They were on the bed, and Jason couldn’t help but be a little surprised. When he stopped in the day before, they had been confined to the cushion on the floor. And Jason was as sure as he had skin on his bones that Damian wouldn’t have asked any of his family for help in moving him.

Augh, the poor kid.

The cat sat on the pillows above their heads. Eyes sad, protective, as he kept watch over his boys, leaned his head against that old skull and purred softly for his favorite canine.

(Jason wondered if there were any words in those purrs. Like, _Sleep now friend,_ or _I’ll keep him safe, don’t you worry about our boy_.)

Damian was on his side, arms wrapped around that frail body like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Tears cascaded silently down his face, saturating the pillow beneath him, but he didn’t say a word. Didn’t let it stop him from gently, comfortingly, stroking his fingers up and down his dog’s spine.

Titus was a shell of himself. Too thin, too bony, too gray. And when did that happen, when did that sleek, silky black coat start to fade towards white? He was curled into Damian’s arms, head ducked under Damian’s chin, nose against his collarbone, and Jason knew he was happy there. Knew that was his favorite place to be, no matter the day, no matter his health. His eyes were half-lidded, and his giant paw was flopped over Damian’s shoulder. He moved only once, to use what feeble strength he had to push closer to Damian. To nuzzle against the teenager’s throat and reposition that paw. Because Titus was the biggest baby any of them had ever met, and Damian spoiled him rotten.

Damian just sobbed harder, though no louder.

And they should be grateful, Jason thought, even as he moved forward, walked along the edge of the mattress. They should be grateful because Titus was almost ten, and the average life span of a Great Dane was only eight years.

But averages and ages didn’t matter here. Not right now. Didn’t make any of this hurt any less. Make any of it any better.

Jason felt his own tears welling when he saw Titus try to glance over at him. When Titus recognized him and attempted to wag his tail. It was so pathetic, so _sad_. And Titus was trying _so hard_.

“I see you, dude.” Jason tried to laugh, and it was a broken sound. He sat down behind Damian’s back, reached over Damian’s shoulder to rub at Titus’s head. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I see you.”

He stopped, for a minute. Finished petting Titus, and gave Alfred a quick stroke before pulling his hand back, resting it on Damian’s bicep.

“How’s he doing?” Jason asked quietly.

“I gave him the drugs the vet suggested.” Damian croaked, barely getting the sentence out. His lips were quivering too harshly, water pouring out of his eyes too quickly. Jason scolded himself, knew he should have brought the kid a water bottle. “He…he doesn’t feel any pain any more.”

So it was going to be soon, then.

“…How are you doing?”

Damian just shrugged. Sniffed loudly. Titus tried to look up at him, let his tongue flick out to lick at Damian’s tears. Jason had a feeling the ever-loyal dog didn’t quite know what those tears were for. “I’ll survive.”

Which Jason knew was code for _“I’m dying inside right now.”_

And it was such a… _Dick Grayson_ thing to do, but Jason couldn’t help it. The kid needed it right now. He squeezed Damian’s arm, leaned down and kissed his temple. “We’re all gonna miss him, kiddo.”

Damian just bit his lip, closed his eyes and nodded.

“It isn’t fair.” Damian breathed, after a second. Shoulders trembling as he tried to hold it all in, probably for Titus’s sake. “It’s just...it’s not _fair_.”

Because dogs were supposed to be immortal.

“No, it’s not. But you’ll be okay, I promise.” That was a lie – sort of. Beyond Dick, Titus and these animals were Damian’s oldest friends. The love ran deep here, and this was Damian’s first true loss.

And you didn’t throw dogs into Lazarus Pits.

“What if I’m not?” Damian whispered, sounded like he was begging. “What if I’m _not_ okay?”

“Then you think of him and you force yourself to be.” Jason hummed. “Because that’s all he ever wanted for you. For you to be happy and safe. You know that.”

Jason felt Damian’s back muscles tighten again, as Damian hid his face against Titus’s head. Alfred gave a sorrowful meow.

“Just hold him ‘til he’s gone.” Jason murmured, just loud enough to be heard over Damian’s gasping breaths. The tears kept growing in his own eyes, as did the lump in his throat. “Just make sure you’re the last thing he sees, okay?”

Damian nodded, squeezed Titus as tightly as he dared.

“Now, I’m gonna head back downstairs. We’ll all be waiting for you, take you’re time.” Jason could only hope he was soothing. Gently, he moved to stand, shifted off the bed and back to his feet. “Do you need anything? _Want_ anything?”

He was about to step away, when Damian suddenly glanced over his shoulder. “…Stay?”

“…You want _me_ to?” Jason asked tentatively. “Or do you want me to go get Dick? Or your dad even?”

Damian shook his head. “You…you’re fine.” Halted, then admitted, “I just don’t want to go through this alone.”

Any other day, Jason would have scoffed, rolled his eyes, made a quip. But today? Today, he just-

“Okay.” He breathed. Walked around the bed to the free side, sat behind Titus’s back. Ran his hands across the dog’s too-skinny ribs. Titus tried to twist, tilt his head to lick at Jason’s fingers, but it was too much effort, and he collapsed back into Damian’s embrace. “I can do that.”

Damian pursed his lips, refused to look up at him. “…He liked you.”

“Yeah?”

“More than the others.” Damian clarified. “Not as much as me, of course.”

“Of course.” Jason echoed. “Though, I think he more than _likes_ you, Damian.” He hesitated. “Titus loves _you_ more than anything in the world.” Another pause. “I’m really glad you two found each other.”

Alfred meowed, as if agreeing.

“Me too.” Damian said, after a few moments. He ran his hand across Titus’s cheek, kissed him right between his eyes. Titus just tried to lick him again, tried to wag that creaky old tail again, and Damian just pressed their foreheads together. “Me too.”

They lapsed into a silence then, with the only sounds Alfred’s purrs and Titus’s labored breaths.

Eventually, Titus’s breaths began to slow. Slower and slower by the minute. He gave out a little whine at one point, and Damian just shushed him tenderly. Kept stroking his face and across his ears.

“Go to sleep, Titus. Get your rest. You’re done enough.” And Jason could tell Damian was forcing himself to keep his eyes open. To keep his gaze locked with his beloved companion’s. “Your battle is over. You’re free now.”

Jason closed his eyes, let his own errant tears fall. Gave Titus one last scratch in his favorite spot.

“You’re free now.” Damian repeated, even as Titus took the breath they all knew was his last, even as his tail stopped moving. He licked Damian’s cheek one more time. “…I’ll see you soon, Titus.”

Titus exhaled, Alfred stopped purring, and the room went silent.

And then, Damian shattered. Clutched at Titus’s fur so hard he was pulling it, buried his face in the dog’s neck and sobbed. Sobbed like his whole world just ended.

(And for a few days, Jason knew it was going to feel like it did.)

But Jason didn’t say anything. Didn’t offer any words of sympathy or empathy. Just reached out and held Damian’s hand. Wiped his own tears away with his free hand.

“It’s okay, Damian. It’s going to be okay.”

And for now, for Damian, as Alfred licked at his forehead and Titus laid dead in his arms – he didn’t know how it was ever going to be again.

Jason turned away, looked out the window. At the sunny skies and cloudless blue.

Damian’s breath hitched. Titus’s paw fell from his shoulder. The world kept turning.

It was all so _wrong_.

Because, no. It wasn’t God who died here today.

…Just the next best thing.


End file.
